Phone-order hooker

I rang the agency. They answered on the second ring, asked what I liked. I told them blonde, young, and not shy. They gave me an address and an hour later she knocked. Tiny black lace panties hugged her hips, nothing else but heels. Black hair spilled over one bare shoulder, lipstick already smudged from the ride over. She walked in, looked me over once, then sank to her knees without asking. Her fingers made quick work of my belt. Wet heat closed around me—slow at first, then deeper. Spit trailed down her chin, catching the light. She glanced up, lashes heavy, cheeks hollowed. I threaded my fingers through that black hair and held her there. She didn’t pull away. Just took it, throat working, eyes tearing, soft moans vibrating straight through me. When I pulled out she caught the rest on her tongue and swallowed, lipstick ruined, smile lazy. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and stood, waiting for whatever came next.